


Volcano

by Wynn



Category: Smallville
Genre: Bonding occurs, Cars are male, Clark has tunnel vision, F/M, Lex and Chloe talk, Newly uploaded to AO3, No one is the Iron Chef, Older Fic, Set between Vortex and Heat, Some angst, Some snark too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynn/pseuds/Wynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>don’t build your world around/ volcanoes melt you down</em>
</p>
<p>In the summer after "Vortex," Lex keeps encountering Chloe Sullivan. Over the course of their three conversations, the two unexpectedly bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volcano

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Damien Rice song of the same name.

She stood in the rain with no umbrella. Blonde hair heavy with water, sticking to the sides of her face in thick clumps. Lex almost didn’t notice her, hidden in the five o’clock rush for the subways and the parking garages, smaller than he remembered. He pulled his Aston Martin over to the curb, much to the indignation of the surrounding motorists, and climbed out into the steady downpour.

Chloe was dressed nice with heels and a tailored jacket over her long skirt. Lex remembered Clark mentioning a Daily Planet internship during one of his produce deliveries a few weeks ago. Before the tornadoes.

She didn’t notice him approach, eyes staring off into space, oblivious to the hustling masses of Metropolis around her. Lex reached out and touched her elbow, and Chloe started, blinking raindrops out of her eyes, confusion clouding her gaze until she focused on Lex. Then the trademark Sullivan smile broke out across her face though it was a faded photocopy of its usual self.

“Lex. Hey. What, what are you doing here? In Metropolis, I mean.”

“Filling in for my father at the monthly LuthorCorp board meeting.”

“Oh. How, um, how is Mr. Luthor doing?”

“He’s as well as can be expected given the nature of his injuries.” Lex paused and glanced down the street at the Daily Planet building two blocks away. “How goes the internship?”

The shaky smile returned, a bit brighter than before. “It’s great. Wonderful. I’ve only been here a few weeks, but I’ve already learned so much.”

A gust of wind blew by, whipping Chloe’s skirt and Lex’s jacket into a twitching flurry of fabric. Chloe swayed in the breeze, and Lex reasserted his hold on her elbow. “Can I drop you off somewhere?”

A blush stained her cheeks pink. Chloe eased out from under Lex’s grip and stepped back a few paces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from anything. I-”

“I have no pressing engagements at the moment, Miss Sullivan. I thought you might like a ride.” Lex allowed himself a small grin, hoping to ease some of Chloe’s embarrassment. “Maybe get out from under the rain.”

Chloe looked down at her sodden clothes, small fingers trailing across the damp hem of her jacket. “I, uh, I forgot my umbrella at the Planet. The rain sort of caught me by surprise.” She eyed his car and a bit of the sly glint he associated with Chloe Sullivan returned. “Are you sure you want to give me a ride? I doubt water logged clothing mixes well with expensive leather seats. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining Lex VII.”

“Somehow I doubt Lex VII would mind. In fact, I think he would be honored to escort you, water logged or no.”

Chloe’s eyes flickered from the car to Lex. Under her quiet assessment, he reevaluated his previous statement, searching for what might have brought on such intense scrutiny. She shook her head again and smiled before Lex could determine the answer. “I would love a ride. Thank you. Do you know how to get to 65th and Maple? That’s where my cousin lives. I’m staying with her for the summer.”

“It’s a few blocks away from Met U, I believe. Near the planetarium.” 

Chloe nodded and Lex opened the passenger door, guiding Chloe into the car before stepping around to the driver’s side. He moved to open the door, but Chloe leaned over and opened it for him. “Thanks,” he said, slipping inside and shutting the door on the rain.

Chloe was quiet as the engine roared to life and Lex pulled away from the curb. She scanned the interior of his car, methodically, taking in his briefcase, the folded copies of the Planet and New York Times, the tip of his cell phone peeking out of his coat pocket, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask any questions. There were questions of his own Lex wanted to ask, but he held back, too.

“I thought all cars were inherently female.”

“Pardon?”

Chloe cast Lex a sidelong look. “You referred to Lex VII as a he. I thought all cars and boats and other manly obsessions were female.”

“They usually are.”

“But not yours.”

“Some are. Others aren’t. I’m a firm believer in equality between the sexes, Miss Sullivan.”

“And this twenty-first century stance applies to cars, too? How consistent of you.”

Lex risked a glance at Chloe. She stared out the windshield; one hand fiddled with the door lock on the arm rest. “I sense disapproval. I thought you above all people would respect an ‘all men were created equal’ ideology.”

“It’s hard to respect something that’s a lie.”

“A lie? How so?”

Chloe sighed and turned her head away but not before Lex noticed the tears form in her eyes. “There is no equality, Lex, and you know it. Some people were born richer than others. Some smarter. Others, others prettier. And no amount of hard work or education or wishing can change that basic fact.” She sighed again and wiped away the few tears that had rolled down her face. Turning back to Lex, her eyes flitted up to his brow and to the scars marring it. “How’s your head?”

Lex shrugged. “The doctors believe the scars should fade completely in a couple months.”

“What do you believe?”

He regarded her for a few moments before responding. The tip of her nose was red from crying, and her hair was a wild mess of tangled blonde strands from the rain, but her eyes were clear, delicate, and strong. So he said, “In my experience, scars have the nasty habit of sticking around. Regardless of whether others think they should fade away.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer before returning his attention to the road. He felt her watching him still, and he wondered what had happened to bring about her melancholy, wondered if she had an unfortunate run in with one of the few remaining journalists at the Planet who subscribed to the ‘boy’s club only’ philosophy. As he turned the car onto Maple, he decided to make some inquiries at the newspaper tomorrow as to how she was being treated. 

Chloe pointed to a rambling three story house, the type usually converted into tiny apartments for college co-eds. There was no available parking space along the street, so Lex stopped the car in the middle of the road, ignoring the truck behind him and its irate driver.

“Your stop, Miss Sullivan.”

“Thanks again for the ride. You saved me from the sardine can that is the five car of the Metropolis subway system.”

“It was my pleasure.”

The truck driver honked once, long and loud, but Chloe didn’t move. Her eyes again found the web of scars around his right eye. “What do you do,” she asked, gaze dropping and locking with his, “with those scars that won’t fade?”

“Embrace them. They help define who we are.”

“Help define but not completely?”

“Not if you don’t let them.”

She studied him as she digested his response then her hand found the door handle and she climbed out of the car back into the rain. Lex watched her traverse the sodden yard, picking her way across the water pools on tip toes, dancing around the edges of the mud puddles. The front door opened from the inside and she entered the house without looking back. Lex watched the door swing shut, watched a window curtain beside the door flutter open. He heard the trucker honk again. The curtain floated closed; Lex put the car in gear and drove away, mind pondering the truth about Chloe Sullivan.  
* * *

She sat in the sunshine, blonde hair a back-lit halo around her head. Part of a sandwich in one hand, the morning edition of the Daily Planet in the other, Chloe flipped through the newspaper, lingering in the metro section, skimming through the business and the arts. She tossed the sports into the trash can behind her without a glance. Lex watched her, hidden beneath the giant oak that shaded much of the tiny park squeezed between the Daily Planet building and the nearby health care conglomerate. Much like their encounter in the rain a few weeks ago, Chloe didn’t notice him approach, but Lex doubted it was due to the same dissonant mindset as before. She seemed a far cry from the disillusioned girl in the rain-soaked clothes he had chauffeured home one dreary afternoon.

“I was wondering if you were going to say hello,” Chloe said, not looking up from her paper, “or if you were planning on standing there all day, watching me eat my lunch.”

Lex stopped short of her bench. “I hadn’t realized you noticed me.”

Chloe peeked up at him from beneath her lashes and arched an eyebrow. “Of course I did. I’m a journalist. Noticing things is our raison d’etre.” She held his gaze, eyes sparkling in amusement, and Lex found the corner of his mouth twitching in response. She cleared away the newspapers and motioned for him to sit beside her. “So what brings you to Metropolis? Another LuthorCorp board meeting?”

Lex shook his head as he sat down. “Interviewing potential physical therapists for my father.”

“How’s that going?”

Lex shrugged. “My father has very high standards.”

“Standards you have trouble meeting?” Lex raised an eyebrow at her question, and Chloe offered him a sheepish smile in return. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all intensive with the Q & A. I’m still in hardcore Planet mode and it’s hard to decompress for civilians.”

“So things are going well for you there? From our last meeting, I was under the impression you may have run into a few roadblocks on your way to journalistic stardom.”

Her eyes dropped down to the ground. Chloe leaned forward, scuffing the toe of one boot against the concrete beneath her feet. “No, that was- that was something else. The Planet’s been great. In fact,” Chloe peered up at him now, a sly smile on her lips, “the experience ventured from fulfilling to mind-blowing a little over two weeks ago.”

“You don’t say.”

She leaned back against the bench and regarded him, lips pursed in concentration. “Yeah, it was the strangest thing. One morning I reported to the Copy room, as usual, only to find I’d been transferred to Charlotte Bradford’s desk. As her own personal intern.”

“Charlotte Bradford?”

“She’s only the hottest reporter at the Planet now, Lex, and you know I’m not talking appearance wise.”

“Congratulations, Chloe. You must have made quite an impression to be promoted to the big leagues.”

“Someone sure did. I’m not quite sure it was me though.” She stared at him, searching for confirmation to her suspicions that he had a hand in her promotion, but Lex kept his face blank. A minute of inspection passed and then Chloe gave up with a sigh. “Well, whatever the circumstances behind my sudden hike up the journalistic ladder, I just want the record to show that I’m very thankful and appreciative for it.”

“Duly noted.” Lex shifted on the bench, smoothing out a crease in his pants. “How does Clark feel about your new intern status?”

“I, um, I wouldn’t know.” 

“You haven’t told him? I’m surprised. I thought he’d be one of the first to get the good news.”

“Yeah, but getting the good news requires actual communication between all parties, and those lines don’t seem to stretch out to the Kent farm. Or out from the Kent farm, I should say.”

“I see.”

“I’m sure you do.” Chloe paused and sighed. “Everyone sees. Everyone except Clark.” Her fingertips skimmed the edge of the park bench, picking at the paint chips. “He’s a world class expert at tunnel vision.”

“And Lana Lang’s at the end of his proverbial tunnel, I presume.” 

Hurt quick like lightning flickered in her eyes. Chloe stood and stepped away from the bench, keeping her back to Lex. He thought she would keep walking, away from him and his unwanted observation, out of the park, return to the comforting ink and press of the Planet. But she stopped after a few feet and turned back to him. Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “I was a blip on the radar. A diversion found unsatisfactory in the romantic lead department and hastily transferred back to platonic sidekick. I.” She shook her head and swallowed. Her eyes darted from Lex to the Daily Planet lying beside him. “I-I’m sorry. I have to go,” she said then turned and walked away. 

“Miss Sullivan?”

Chloe stopped. Lex gathered the scattered sections of her newspaper and folded them into an orderly pile. Pushing off the bench, he moved toward her. She watched him approach, curiosity battling for control with her desire to escape. Stopping before her, Lex pressed the papers into her hands and said, “Normally, I admire a single-minded determination in a person. In this case, however, it seems to be a shortcoming rather than a virtue.” 

Her eyes widened at his comment. A beat passed and then Lex stepped back, releasing his hold on her hands. Dipping his head in farewell, he moved past her, toward LuthorCorp and his next series of interviews with potential physical therapists. 

He didn’t look back.  
* * *

She leaned against the wall outside his office, digital camera in hand, head bent and attention focused on the pictures flashing across the small LCD screen. A lock of hair fell into her eyes and Chloe pushed it away with a flick of her hand. She looked up as Lex approached and switched off the camera, shoving it into the crowded depths of her messenger bag. Lex stopped before his office door and cast an assessing glance her way; she smiled, small and slight, in return. Shuffling his memos and file folders to one hand, Lex opened the door and said, “I was wondering when you’d come for an interview.”

He heard Chloe follow him into his office. Lex crossed over to his desk and dropped the folders and memos next to his laptop. Turning around, he leaned back against the desk, slipped his hands into the pockets of his charcoal pants, and watched Chloe inspect his office. She had stopped only a few feet from the door, bag still closed, camera remaining hidden within. He motioned for her to sit, but she declined with a shake of her head. 

He said, “Most journalists call my secretary and schedule an appointment first.”

Her eyes finished their cursory examination of the Impressionist prints hanging on the walls and the reference manuals on his bookshelves and then they found him. “I’ll remember that. Do you know where my dad is?”

Lex pushed off the desk and took a step forward. “Is something wrong?”

“No. No, his secretary told me he was here in your office, so I swung by to say hello. But he’s not here either.”

“He went down to the plant floor to speak to the foreman. He should be back in a few minutes. You can wait, if you want.” 

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Motioning for her to sit, Lex circled around and eased down into his ergonomic black leather chair. Chloe sat opposite him in one of the two wingbacks arranged in front of his desk and set her bag down on the floor next to her feet. Clearing his throat, Lex said, “Gabe didn’t mention you were coming back to Smallville.”

“I’m not. I mean, I am, eventually, but not now. Not permanently. There’s still a couple weeks left in my internship, so I’m only here for the weekend. I wanted to come back, surprise Dad with some quality father-daughter bonding time.” Lex nodded; his hands sifted through the contents cluttering his desk, organizing the loose pens, straightening the file folders into a neat pile, gathering together the neon-colored memorandums left by his secretary. A brief moment of silence passed and then Chloe said, “Hopefully I can save Dad from another night of crappy Chinese take-out.”

“So you’re the Iron Chef of the family.”

Chloe smiled and issued forth an amused snort. “Me? With the cooking? Yeah, right. I’m more with the burning. Occasionally with the char-broiling. Dad’s the one who cooks, but he thinks it’s a waste of time to cook only for himself. When I’m not around he does the dinner equivalent of brown bagging it.” She shrugged, smile fading, and resumed her examination of his office. Shifting in the chair, she eased one leg under the other, folded her hands in her lap, and said, gaze lingering on his Pilot gel-ink pen, “Um, I’d appreciate it, if you happen to see Clark this weekend, if you’d not mention my returned presence in Smallville. I seriously doubt the topic would come up in conversation, but still, I’d rather, you know, not… be mentioned. If you don’t mind.”

“Consider it done.” One corner of Lex’s mouth quirked up into a smirk. “Or not done, in this case. I doubt I’ll see Clark though. He spends most of his time at the farm.” 

‘Or with Lana’ remained unsaid.

Chloe shifted in the chair again, avoiding his gaze. Lex’s intercom crackled, and his secretary called his name. Chloe looked over to the intercom then up at Lex, and after a moment, he drew his eyes away from her and said, “Yes?”

His secretary’s voice filtered through the tiny speaker, static-filled and tinny. “Mr. Luthor, your father called again. I informed him you were in a meeting and therefore unavailable, but he insisted on speaking to you. He said it was of the utmost urgency. Would you like me to patch him through?”

Lex closed his eyes. His hands tightened around his Pilot pen.

“Mr. Luthor?”

He thought he heard the black plastic crack. He lowered the pen back onto the desk.

“Mr. Luthor?”

“Tell him I’ll speak to him at home,” Lex said, opening his eyes. “If he calls again, tell him the same.”

Chloe watched him as his secretary said, “Very well, Mr. Luthor.”

Silence followed the final burst of static from the intercom. Lex felt his heart pound heavy in his chest, felt it in his temples, pulsing, thudding. Chloe still watched him. He drew in a deep breath and said, “Miss Sullivan-”

“I guess I’m not the only one who wishes to remain anonymous this weekend.”

Lex leaned back in his chair and stared, mouth drawn into a tight line. Chloe didn’t look away, didn’t even blink at his antagonistic glare. She arched an eyebrow at his silence, and he said finally, “No. You’re not.”

“I would have thought such a serious injury as Mr. Luthor sustained during the tornadoes would bring father and son closer together.”

Lex remained silent. He could see the gears shifting, see the puzzle pieces being arranged and rearranged in her mind. The disillusioned girl in the rain-soaked clothes nearly made him forget the sharp mind lurking beneath her hazel eyes. Said eyes lifted up to the faded scar circling his brow, and Chloe licked her lips, breathed in then out, and said, “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

Lex didn’t ask “isn’t what.” 

Chloe answered anyway.

“Not measuring up. Not being good enough or smart enough or pretty enough no matter what you do. It’s hard realizing you’ve been found lacking some supposedly vital quality by the ones you love.”

“Yes, I imagine it’s quite difficult being second best.”

Chloe stilled. He wondered if her heartbeat fluttered in her chest or if it pounded, pulsed, throbbed like his. “Not as difficult as being first by default, I suppose,” she said and her voice cracked sharp like his pen.

She reached for her bag and rose out of the chair. Lex stared past her, stared at the Van Gogh print on the wall, stared at the swirls of blue and yellow and black. “In this case, however,” she continued, stepping into his field of vision, fingertips resting on the edge of his desk, “I think the one found lacking is the one you love. Not you.”

Lex looked at Chloe then, and she smiled, a pensive wisp of a smile that dimmed his father’s voice echoing in his mind. “Embrace the scars but don’t let them define you, right?”

Seconds ticked by, slipped by, and he murmured, “Not completely, no.”

Chloe nodded, sighed, and broke the gaze between them. She stepped back, easing back behind the chair, and said, “I should go, let you get back to work. I’ll just wait in Dad’s office.” She turned and walked over to the door but stopped before the threshold. Looking back, she said, “Dad and I usually eat junk food and watch cheesy horror flicks during our father-daughter bonding nights.” A pause and then, “Our couch seats three.” 

And she was gone, out the door and down the hall, last words lingering like morning sunshine in a fog.  
* * *

end


End file.
